


It'll be either in the back of beyond or fucking space

by Banashee



Series: Tear Down The Walls (IronHawk Verse) [7]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Team as Family, They're a mess but they love each other, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 19:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20296474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: "The thing with anything involving any Avenger, especially Tony Stark is, it'll turn into a media circus pretty fast. It doesn't matter if it's almost the end of the world or simply Captain America shopping for groceries.It happens.They don't like it, but they accept it, or at least work around it. Most of the time. This time, however, they want to avoid any public attention, because,“Fuck the media, seriously.”Clint can't stand them even on a good day.He refuses to deal with them on his fucking wedding day." (...)In which they plan a wedding and try to keep it private, and also expand their chosen family.





	It'll be either in the back of beyond or fucking space

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go again!  
This time with slightly chaotic wedding planning, but also fluff and some slight ptsd and homophobia.

**It'll be either in the back of beyond or fucking space**

The thing with anything involving any Avenger, especially Tony Stark is, it'll turn into a media circus pretty fast. It doesn't matter if it's almost the end of the world or simply Captain America shopping for groceries.

It happens.

They don't like it, but they accept it, or at least work around it. Most of the time. This time, however, they want to avoid any public attention, because,

“Fuck the media, seriously.”

Clint can't stand them even on a good day.

He refuses to deal with them on his fucking wedding day.

“If they bother us, I'll help you get rid the bodies.”

“You romantic, you. Honestly though, at this rate, it'll be either in the back of beyond or fucking space.”

Tony stretches a bit with a grabby hand motion to try and get his cup of coffee without moving too much. He's comfortable right where he is, lazing on the couch. So Clint grabs it from the floor, moves his upper body to hand it over, while his feet in mismatched fluffy socks are hanging over the back of the sofa before he flops back and stuffs a handful of salted peanuts in his face.

Tony toasts him a quick thanks with the mug.

“We can totally make both options happen. Any preferences?”

“As long as there are no reporters or strange people in general I really don't mind.”

“They can all go fuck themselves. I'm kinda surprised we managed to keep our business private for so long.”

“Yeah... Well, I guess that's kinda my own fault, at least partly.” Clint admits, and Tony snorts into his coffee.

_In hindsight, the PR department really should have known better. _

_It is a well known fact that Hawkeye hates any interaction with any kind of media outlet. That, and his big trap combined with a brain-to-mouth-filter that is barely there to nonexistent, depending on the day, and his level or lack of caffeine intake, are are recipe for disaster. _

_As a result, he's doing most interviews with at least one other Avenger (but never just Tony, because the two of them combined are a journalists worst nightmare). They also make sure he's had enough coffee to be fit to be let loose in public. Usually._

_But this one TV show is live, the schedule is a tight one and Clint had just come back from a three week SHIELD mission with too little sleep and almost no down time. He's sent out there anyway – mistake number one._

_Mistake number two is entirely on the Interviewers head, to be fair. _

_That guy is a conservative idiot in his late 50s, and Clint wants to shove the nearby flowerpot including fake succulent down his throat before he even finishes the first question. _

_Then he digs his own grave._

“_As a straight guy, a military guy, what do you think about the unnecessary gay pride events coming up? Why don't we have a straight pride, am I right?”_

_The guy laughs, looking smug and complacent._

_Clint fixes him in a icy stare. His head does not spin in a 360 like it would on a demon or an owl, but it's a near thing. They've got to be fucking kidding him._

_He's sleep deprived, he's in a piss poor mood and he want's to vomit._

_The words that come out of his mouth instead will be trending all over the internet in five minutes flat._

“_First of all, how fucking dare you assume I'm straight. Second, who took out your brain and replaced it with a pile of shit?”_

_The audience cheers. The other Avengers who are backstage and waiting for their turn cheer even louder. The Interviewer looks like his brain just short circuited. The PR manager wants to simultaneously storm the stage and rip out his own hair. _

_Clint eyes the flower pot._

_Tony falls in love all over again._

*+~

There are more and more people coming to live or at least half-time live at the tower. It can get a bit loud and a bit confusing at times, but they wouldn't want it any other way. They're a big, sprawling family, and it's good to know that there are so many people having their backs.

Today, it is Clint's turn to provide breakfast.

“JARVIS, how many of us are even home today?” he asks, taking a long swig from the coffee pot. Two big ones are on the table, but this one is his personal one, because why dirty up some mugs when he's just going to drink the whole thing on his own anyway?

“There are currently 9 people, including yourself, present, Agent Barton.” the AI replies politely and helpful as always.

“Thanks, J.” he starts counting eggs and measuring flour and milk into large bowls. Pancakes it is, and waffles as well. All of it is easily customizable, and maybe he can get whoever arrives next to chop up some fruits. But pancakes first.

He's working quickly, singing along to the music that's playing in the background and flipping pancakes and baking out waffles in turns, while he's started a giant pan of scrambled eggs on another part of the stove.

He puts the toaster to work. It's in a mood today, and it takes some careful coaxing and prodding to get it to do it's job.

Where is Thor when he needs him – the dang thing seems to like him best, and gives everyone else a hard time.

To be fair, Tony had been awake for 72 hours when he built it, because the standard toasters are way too small for all of them, so he went and simply built one, but his insomnia caused it to be a little bit... Special. Tony claims to not be responsible for any strange habits due to lack of sleep.

The other Avengers had been understanding, until it started catapulting burning hot slices of bread at anyone but Thor, who always had a soft spot for strange midgardian things.

At least, the toaster seems to work with Clint today.

“Good toaster” he says, petting the metal sides, which gets him a strange look and a huff from Lucky, who had been dozing on the floor because “toaster” is not was his human calls him, and clearly he is the only Good Boy around here so what even.

Clint laughs and bends down to scratch behind his ears, smoothing down the soft golden fur and Lucky leans into it, closing his one eye and letting his mouth hang open in contentment.

“Yes, Lucky I love you too buddy. No kitchen appliance will ever take your spot, don't worry.”

A few minutes later, Sam, Steve and Bucky enter the kitchen, no doubt summoned by the smell of coffee and various foods.

“Morning, guys.”

“Hey Clint. Need any help?”

“Yeah, if you could chop up some fruit that would be great. Maybe whip up some heavy cream, too?”

“Coming right up”

Steve and Sam, do as asked, while Bucky sits down on the breakfast bar and kind of stares off into space for a moment.

The guy is still twitchy, unsure if he is wanted, despite all of the efforts. It's understandable, after having his brain in the blender for so many years. Clint understands, in a way most people probably wouldn’t.

“What do you guys want for toppings? He asks, while he pulls out bottles and jars of maple sirup, nutella, peanut butter, jam, and marshmallow fluff. Various things he's put out there are the answers, and from the doorway comes “caramel sauce” in Natasha’s voice, followed by “Whatever fruits we have” and “Is there coffee?” from Bruce and Tony, who just arrive piled together.

Not far behind are Thor and Peter, who call dips on the marshmallow fluff as they join.

They're all in different stages of dressed, and Peter drops his school backpack next to the door, and happily greets the room in general. The kid is like a ray of sunshine, even this early in the morning.

On the breakfast bar, Bucky looks a little miserable.

“I don't know.” is his quiet answer to the question, and he looks down.

“You used to like maple sirup, if we could get it.” Steve tries to help out, but he looks a bit like a kicked puppy. He often does, when he wants to help Bucky but isn't sure, how.

There is a moment of awkward silence in the kitchen. But Clint tries to rescue the situation, because 1) it's too early for feelings and 2) he hates seeing his friends upset, so he pushes a mountain of food in the former winter soldiers general direction, puts on a smile and says,

“Can't know if you don't try, right? There is plenty of stuff, so no need to worry.”

He discreetly nudges Lucky towards Bucky and Steve, because everyone loves the dog.

Clint knows how much it helps to just pet him and feel the soft fur and warm body. Lucky shuffles close, squishing his head in between their tights and looking up expectantly.

It works, and even Bucky seems to relax a little bit, judging by the small smile on his lips as he runs his flesh hand through the thick, soft fur.

*+~

“What do you think of this place?” Tony asks, shoving a smartphone into his fiances face.

Clint squints against the sudden brightness, then takes a look. It's a photo of a beautiful, empty beach, surrounded by cliffs and green grass.

“It looks nice. Is it secure?”

“Yes, it should be. But we can always secure it our way. It's a private beach, so anyone uninvited is trespassing.”

“Sounds good to me. So, we'll scratch the space idea and go with this?” he asks, lightly elbowing Tony. They both know that the spaceship idea was just a joke, but they're desperate to keep their shit private.

“Nope, no space for us this time” he agrees, puts the phone away and tucks the blanket around both of them.

It's late, they're in bed and breathing each others company. Things have been hectic lately, and they bathe in the peace and quiet, knowing it'll probably end very soon.

“No space.” Clint agrees, and kisses Tony. “No reporters.” he kisses him again, “No murders” and again, “No bodies to hide that day” he pulls him close again, longer this time, and their hands start wandering.

Gentle fingers shove fabric away, and they're pressed together, hot skin against skin, lips searching each other in the half darkness of the room.

*+~

It rains. It's been raining for over a week straight.

The whole of New York is drenched in water from the gray sky, clouds thick and black and a wind that leaves a chill in their bones, even in the well heated tower.

A fire is burning in the gas fireplace, the thermostat is turned up high, but Clint is still wearing a thick hoodie, two pairs of socks and a mountain of blankets.

He's never liked the cold, having spent too many freezing winters without heating in a miserable home, foster care, orphanages, the circus, out on the streets and on the job, perched up high in any weather, waiting to take the shot.

Ever since Loki, the cold is even harder to shake off, and it leaves him shivering.

Clint is curled up on the sofa, pressed against Tony, who holds him close with one arm, and a steaming mug of tea wrapped with both hands. It helps a little bit.

Anything is better than being alone.

“Wanna put on a movie or something?” asks Tony, rubbing a bit of warmth into the other man's back, and Clint just nods, pulling the blanket closer. It's a gigantic, garishly colorful thing, made of countless different squares of crochet.

Thor found a new hobby a while ago, and he's getting really good at it. After collecting the square pieces for a long time, he spent many evenings sewing them all together. The blanket is big enough to comfortably fit three people under it, four if they cuddle up close.

It's ugly and it clashes with everything – they love it.

Lucky is dozing on their intertwined legs and drooling onto the yarn.

Not too long into the movie, the couch shifts under the weight of another person, and Clint wordlessly lifts up a corner of the blanket.

Steve shuffles close, shivering and shaking despite the many layers of clothes he's wearing.

“Fucking cold weather.” he's cursing under his breath, and relaxing against his friends in an instant and pulling the blanket close around all of them.

Sandwiched inbetween two warm bodies and the comfortable weight of his dog on top of him, Clint drifts off into a light sleep.

When he wakes up about an hour later, more people have joined them.

Snuggled up against Steve's back, Bucky has wrapped an arm around his best friend, looking quite relaxed and content. He's wearing a lot of layers, too – the cold reminds him too much of the cryo, but the warm environment and the people around him help a lot.

Leaning against him and using one of Thor's arms as a pillow is Peter, who was one of the first people besides Steve and Sam that Bucky let close – the teenager brings out his protective streak, and he's so completely nonjudgmental, it's easy to trust him.

Crammed on the love seat under another pile of blankets are Natasha, Pepper, Bruce and Sam.

Quiet conversations and movie noises fill the air, along with the sweet aroma of hot chocolate.

Clint can feel his partners fingers running through the back of his messy hair, and he finds that he no longer feels cold. With a smile, he drifts back to sleep.

*+~

The beach is full of people, and the sun is shining down from a bright blue sky. Everyone is wearing suits and dresses, but have their pant legs scrunched up and stand in the sand with bare feet.

Tony can't stop smiling, and he's holding Clint's familiar, broad and calloused hands in his own while they exchange their vows.

It really is a beautiful day.


End file.
